Folie à Deux
by Tabula Rasa
Summary: Harry's seventh year. Voldemort has not attacked yet, but will with a suprise that will rock the wizarding world. For Voldemort is not as Harry last saw him, but in his younger body. And of course, this spells out trouble for Harry, Ron, Hermione, Ginny a
1. Chapter One Curious Scribblings

  
  
**Folie à Deux  
Chapter One   
Curious Scribblings**

_Cherish the lies that you bought  
Charming delusions gone crack in the fire  
I know we might be mediocre  
I know nothing's on fire  
Confidence fell through the hole in your pocket  
The simple's illogical so it be logic  
I'm caught in the diaries with all your complaining  
The curious scribblings of one who has everything_  
  
~ Unholy, Dirty and Beautiful - © David Usher

  
  


There was one paticular lesson that Tom Riddle had learned at Hogwarts that stood out in his mind, no matter when. The lesson was "always surprise your opponent". Something that a Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher by the name of Drell Wagnid had always told him. And after all, the man exercised that principle well. He had been the favourite teacher of nearly everyone at Hogwarts during the fourteen years he had taught there, a year expanse from 1925 to 1939. Of course, he had left two years prior to the Chamber of Secrets being opened. That had disappointed Tom Riddle a small bit, knowing that his favourite teacher was not there to witness his triumph. Of course, the ex-professor Wagnid had heard about it. Everyone in the wizarding world with a child at Hogwarts had learned about the Chamber of Secrets and the havor that its creature had wreaked when let loose. But the mere event of opening up a chamber that allowed a Muggle-born killing animal loose was nothing compared to Wagnid's works. After all, the man was the feared Dark Lord of the time - Grindelwald. But not many knew that. It was one of the many secrets that had passed between him and Slytherin's heir. 

Why had Wagnid befriended him? Possibly because he could see the power that young Riddle held in him, perhaps he knew what the child could become? This question had never occurred to Tom Riddle and quite frankly, he didn't care about it. The teacher had been thirty-two when he arrived and was the Head of Slytherin House. To some, this presented a humorous paradox. To some, out right suspicion. Of course, they had good to be suspicious of Wagnid. He had attended Durmstrang, so why was he teaching at Hogwarts and not there? That was the main question. One that had raised suspicions about the man. Some also found it suspicious that he had left right before the war started, not only in the Muggle world but in the magical world as well. 

Grindelwald was their world's parallel to Hitler. The Muggle-borns were their world's parallel to the Jewish. Of course the war ended the same way for the Muggles and the wizards. The evil dictator was defeated and the people he had deemed unworthy were no longer persecuted. Of course, while defeat spelled out Hilter's own suicide, it spelled out a set-back for Grindelwald. A set-back in his quest for immortality. After his protégé graduated from Hogwarts, the former professor sought him out and taught him. Taught him of the darkest spells, the blackest magicks and many more things. The boy had hung onto his every word, like a child who was listening to a respected and admired uncle. That's what it was, in some twisted way. Riddle was the true Heir of Slytherin, the one who would finish the task Salazar had set out on. Grindelwald, while not being the heir, was also a descendant of the Snake Lord. 

This had a hand in forming the kinship between the two. There were many similarities in their personalities and Riddle often looked upon his favoured teacher as the father he had never had. And Wagnid - Grindelwald - looked upon the boy as a son. Of course, that was probably the point in time that began to turn him into what he was today. 

But then again, one was never quite sure when the darkness had begun to rise up in Riddle and take control of him. 

  
  


10:13 p.m.  
13 August, 1995  
The Riddle House  
Little Hangleton

  
  
  


Severus Snape Apparated into the main hall. He stopped to straighten his robes and looked around him. There were clearly outlined footsteps on the ground, trailed through the years of dust that lay covering the marble floor. His own had made a slight clacking sound against the floor when he had arrived. He looked around for others, but the soft chatter that drifted into the vaulted room was from another place. Presumably where the source of light was coming from. He pulled the gleaming mask over his face and headed for the room. He had dug the mask out from its place in a bottom drawer in his attic the minute he had returned home from Hogwarts. This was the first time he had felt the Mark burn on his arm since that June night last term, when Diggory was killed and the Dark Lord had been reborn. The Potions Master had been both expecting and dreading when the Mark would burn once more and bring him back before the people who regarded him as the traitor he was. He knew that he would have his work cut out for him, trying to convince them that he was still "one of them". Footsteps resounded against the hard floor behind him, but Severus stood still. It was something of an exercise in trust among Death Eaters, not turning around when one of your own approached you from behind. Severus found this quite annoying, as he was quite fond of knowing who was sneaking up behind him. 

"Welcome, Severus," a hand landed on his shoulder as the voice proclaimed the greeting. Automatically, without the aid of turning, Severus knew it was Lucius Malfoy. The voice was easily recognizable - all the arrogance of his lineage complete with superiority. Severus allowed himself to be led into a room that was adjacent to the hall, one that was more clean and recently used. Upon entry, he recognized many of his former "friends" from school. Some of them had been in his year, but the majority of the ones present were older than him. It was easy to, even in the masks. And at the front of the room was the most recognizable of them all, the only one without a mask on. 

"Now, Severus, you have quite a bit of explaining to do," Lucius continued as he led Severus closer to the front of the room where the Dark Lord sat. 

Lord Voldemort looked the same as he had thirteen and a half years ago, before he had fool-hardedly gone after the Potters on the prophecy of Adrienne Lestrange. The prophecy that had led him to his downfall. Severus still privately wondered if she had even made a real prophecy, or if it was all bollocks. His eyes still held the red glow of coals, but Severus could remember a time when they didn't. In fact, he remembered his first few days as a Death Eater, when Marius Lestrange, Adrienne's husband, had convinced him to become one of them. At his first meeting, the Dark Lord had looked like a normal person, though extremely tall and skeletally thin, with black hair and pale skin. However, the second meeting, he had changed and the fifteen-year-old Severus Snape had to physically keep himself from running out the door of the abandoned house in Hogsmeade and straight into his dorm room. 

"I am well aware of that, Lucius," Severus replied, using the same cutting tone he often employed when reprimanding his students. However, the tone that had upset children did very little to harm the emotions - or lack, thereof - of the head of the Malfoy family. 

"Of course, the Master is very interested in why you could not join our little gathering a few weeks ago," Lucius continued, as they approached the throne-like chair the wizard in question sat upon. Severus could almost see the smirk on the elder man's pale, pointed face. 

Lord Voldemort turned his face to Severus, his coal-red eyes surveying the rogue Death Eater silently. His expression was impassive and Severus privately wondered if the Dark Lord was capable of facial expression. However, this was soon proven wrong as a sinister smile shaped the Dark Lord's lipless mouth. 

"Lucius, leave us," he commanded in a soft, icy voice. Severus stiffened his body, remembering not to give into the shivers that crawled their way up his back when the Dark Lord spoke. He would never betray weakness to this - this - _thing. _Severus kept silent as the Dark Lord's eyes bored into his own black ones, trying to seek the truth in his mind. Fully aware of the Dark Lord's abilities, Severus had concocted a potion to take before every meeting. It had been one of Dumbledore's own inventions, a potion with the capacity to block mind-readers. And although he wasn't sure, Severus had a sneaking suspicion that the Dark Lord had this ability. Therefore, he took the potion, which enabled the mind-reader to only learn of what the person wanted them to know. 

Lord Voldemort nodded slightly, satisfied by what he had learned. However, he was going to make Severus tell him exactly what he had just learned from the Potions Master's mind. 

"Where were you when I summoned?" inquired the Dark Lord, thrumming his fingers on the arm of the chair. A quick glance in that direction caused Severus to spot the Dark Lord's pet, a large snake by the name of Nagini. He quickly returned his eyes to the Dark Lord, who found it to be a sign of weakness when someone was not looking at him when they were speaking to him. 

"I was at the Triwizard Tournament, my Lord," Severus said, adopting a tone he used less often. One of perfect obedience, a tone that had not been used in a long time. 

"As was Karkaroff," replied Voldemort. There was a hiss from Nagini at this and the snake began to slither its way up the chair to twine around its master's arm. 

"I know, but unlike he, I was beside someone who could have put us all in serious jeopardy, my Lord," Severus covered silkily. It was true, of course. He had been sitting right next to Dumbledore when he felt the Mark burn. 

"Ahh, yes," Voldemort nodded, "you were seated next to that Mudblood-loving fool, Dumbledore." 

"And leaving right at that moment, right after he had found out Harry Potter had disappeared, would have been very hazardous," Severus continued. 

The Dark Lord paused for a moment and silence hung in the balance between the two of them. Then, the Dark Lord nodded. 

"Excuse accepted." 

Severus almost sighed with relief, before remembering to keep himself in check. That, and the Dark Lord's next words. 

"However, Severus," here the Dark Lord paused, to make his next words more effective, "you will be watched closely. And if I hear any word of betrayal by yourself, you will face the utmost punishment." 

"Of course, my Lord," Severus said, bowing slightly as he withdrew to where some others were standing. As he did so, he realized that silence had fallen around the room. That, and the Death Eaters were now forming a circle. Severus took his own space, beside Walden Macnair. 

He had avoided the worst now, that was certain. He was accepted back, but not fully. There was still suspicion, but within time, he would find some way to overcome that and gain the needed information to Dumbledore. Turning his attention away from his task, Severus looked to the Dark Lord, who was rising out of his chair. The Dark Lord paused as he got up, almost as if he were to collapse back into his chair. Perhaps he was still weakened from getting his body back, mused Severus. However, the moment of weakness passed as quickly as it had come. 

Voldemort stepped forward and placed his hand in his pocket. There was a stillness in the air, as if everyone in the room was holding their breath. Withdrawing his hand from the pocket of his dark robes, there was a small black object clutched in the long fingered hand of the Dark Lord. The Dark Lord paused, a smirk playing across his face once more. 

"Bring in Karkaroff," he ordered and immediately, the aforementioned former Death Eater was dragged in by Amadeus Crabbe and Jareth Goyle. The two flung him on the ground in the middle of the circle where he immediately scrambled to his feet, a look of pure terror on his face. 

"Now, Igor," the Dark Lord began, as if this were just a pleasant conversation over an evening cup of tea, "we are very upset with you, you realize." 

Karkaroff did not reply, but his eyes darted around the circle of masked wizards, looking for an escape route. He found none and slumped slightly, like a man knowing he was going to die. Which, of course, he was. 

"However, at the moment, I have more pressing matters," continued Voldemort, almost lazily. He reached into his other pocket and pulled out a quill. The tip was dark with ink and Severus took this to mean that the quill was enchanted to have a never-ending supply of ink. Karkaroff started, surprised at this. Severus was surprised too, no one who betrayed Voldemort got off this easily. 

Voldemort opened the small black object and spread it flat on his palm. Severus could now see that it was a diary. But what would the Dark Lord need with a diary? That was the question that confused Severus. It baffled him until he remembered the second year that Potter boy had been at Hogwarts. There had been business about the Weasley girl - Ginny - and a diary of some sort. That and the Chamber of Secrets. Severus started and narrowed his eyes, his attention focused on the diary as Voldemort wrote something in it quickly with the quill. 

The Dark Lord let the quill fall from his fingers as he reached back into his pocket to pull out his wand. There seemed to be an air of confusion among the Death Eaters now; what was their master doing? Voldemort held the diary out in front of him and pressed the tip of his wand to the open pages. 

"_Dono Vivificus_!" called the Dark Lord and a bright light shone from where his wand and the diary met. The light travelled up the Dark Lord's arm and consumed his body. A wind was whipping up around the room and some of the Death Eaters were moving uneasily and some were even talking in worried tones. The wind seemed to form a vortex around the Dark Lord. The vortex was glowing with an unearthly light and the form of the Dark Lord wasn't even visible anymore, just a writhing form of light. 

Then, just as suddenly as the swirling, glowing vortex had appeared, it was gone. And in place of the Dark Lord was a teenage boy. The diary fell in front of him to the ground, making the smallest of noises. A murmer went through the crowd of the Death Eaters as the boy picked up Voldemort's fallen wand. A cruel smile played on his lips as he surveyed the man in front of him. 

"Now, where were we?" he inquired softly, raising his wand and pointing it at Karkaroff, "Oh, yes. _Crucio_." 

Insantly Karkaroff fell to the floor, twisting and writhing in a thoroughly unnatural way. Severus winced behind his mask at the pain of one of his old friends. However, the boy ignored him and his red eyes flickered around the masked faces in the circle. He didn't say anything, but simply stood there as the Headmaster of Durmstrange writhed at his feet in excruciating pain. 

"What do we do now, my Lord?" came the voice of Lucius Malfoy. 

Severus narrowed his eyes at the teenage boy that stood at the head of the circle in the place of the Dark Lord. The boy looked to be around the same age as Lucius's son and had black hair that made his pale skin even paler. Of course, his eyes stood out the most as they were a bright crimson colour. 

"Patience, Lucius, patience." the dark-haired boy said, ignoring the screams of pain from Karkaroff. 

"Why must we wait?" inquired another Death Eater. 

The boy fixed his blood-red gaze upon the masked wizard that had spoken, "Because, Nott, I am Lord Voldemort. And what I say, you do." 

For indeed, the boy was who Severus had suspected he was. Tom Marvolo Riddle stood at the head of the circle, watching Karkaroff die a slow, painful death in front of him. 


	2. Chapter Two You've Got the Gall

  
  
**Folie à Deux  
Chapter Two   
You've Got the Gall**

_I'm trapped in this world   
Lonely and fading  
Heartbroke and waiting   
For you to come   
We are stuck in this world   
That's not meant for me   
For me_  
  
~ Not Meant For Me - © Wayne Static

  
  


11:45 a.m  
17 August, 1997  
Ministry of Magic  
London  
  
  
  


"Minister Fudge?" the young blonde secretary poked her head into the Minister's office.

Cornelius Fudge looked up from the paperwork he was going over. He frowned slightly at the woman, trying to remember her name. Didn't it begin with a B? Barabra? Bernice? Babette? With a slight shake of his head, he pulled himself off that train of thought and nodded. 

"There's someone here to see you," she said, smiling. 

"Who?" Fudge inquired, placing his quill down beside the parchment. He ran a hand through his greying hair and then glanced at the clock. "Do they have an appointment?" 

"Yes, he says he does," the secretary said, consulting the magical planner she held in her hand, "and it says so right here in your appointment book." 

"Send him in then," the Minister sighed. "Oh, and . . . Babette?" 

"Belinda, Minister." the blonde secretary - Belinda, Fudge reminded himself - smiled, although this one was a bit strained. 

"You can take your lunch break now, but be sure to remind me never to make appointments before lunch again," Fudge said. 

"Of course, Minister." Belinda smiled again before ducking out. 

Quickly, Fudge straightened up the paperwork on his desk so it looked noticeably more neat. He wasn't sure who it was waiting for him, but it was obviously someone important. Nobodies simply did not get granted private meetings with the Minister for Magic. After a quick tidying of his desk, he leaned back and just in time too. 

The door to his office swung open silently and a man wearing Muggle clothing stepped in. 

"I'm sorry," Fudge said in polite bewilderment, "do I know you?" 

"Ahh, my good friend Lucius Malfoy made this appointment for me, Minister," the man said in a silky, sinister voice. 

"All right then," Fudge said, frowning a bit. He didn't recall Lucius asking for a private meeting. Merlin only knew that he usually would have remembered, though. "Sit down," the Minister gestured to the chair in front of his desk. 

"Actually, Minister, that won't be necessary." the man said, a cold smile highlighting his features. 

"I beg your pardon?" Fudge asked, his confusion increasing. 

"I won't need to sit, but you might as well stay sitting," the man pulled a wand out of the holster attacked to the belt of his black pants. He pointed it at the Minister with a decidedly malicious look in his red eyes. 

_Dear God_, Fudge took a sharp intake of breath, "who are you?" he demanded. 

"Why, dear Minister," the cordial mocking was seeming to be much fun for this man, "I am Lord Voldemort." 

"Belinda!" Fudge yelled for his secretary as he quickly got up from his chair. This man was mad, raving, a lunatic! There was no possible way - 

"_Avada Kedavra_." 

The words were whispered, but the volume of the voice of the caster could not alter the deadly consequences for one on the receiving end on the spell. 

Cornelius Fudge, former Minister for Magic was dead before he hit the ground. 

And Lord Voldemort walked out of the office, closing the door behind him. He didn't attract any attention from anyone in the office. After all, they had all gone on their lunch breaks. 

  
  


1:42 p.m  
17 August, 1997  
Diagon Alley  
London  
  
  
  


Diagon Alley was normally a busy place and today was no exception. The crowds were a small problem for four certain people who were Apparating into the alley to do school shopping. Immediately upon appearance, Harry Potter was knocked over by a random child rushing by, Hermione Granger flattened herself against the wall and the Weasley siblings, Ron and Ginny were shoved around the crowd. However, within moments of their sudden appearing, they had ducked into a small alcove near Scribbulus's Everchanging Inks to avoid the rush. 

Brunette Hermione Granger sighed with dismay as she surveyed the crowd of mostly student-age wizards, "I _told_ you that we should have gone school shopping earlier. Just look at all the people!" 

Looking at each other, Harry Potter and Ron Weasley rolled their eyes. Of course Hermione would be the one to comment on the crowds and their habit of getting in the way of her school shopping. As predictable as ever, Hogwart's new Head Girl pulled a piece of parchment out of her pocket and studied it, then turned to the two boys. 

"I suppose you haven't brought your lists?" she asked, pursing her lips with disapproval as the boys nodded. Rolling her eyes, she raked a hand through her unruly brown curls. "Let's go then." 

"Can we just hold up a minute?" Ginny Weasley, silent until now, asked. When the trio turned to look at her, they saw she was leaning against the wall, breathing heavily and looking a bit ill. 

"Sorry, Gin," Ron said apologetically, wincing, "I forgot you don't like when you have to be Apparated with me." 

"Oh, I'll be fine when I go for my test," Ginny replied, shaking her head a bit. Her face colour was rapidly returning to normal, as was her expression. "And it's _Virginia_." she added, a bit snootily. 

"Right, of course. Now that you're sixteen, you don't want to be called by your _baby name_," Ron said mockingly. 

"Virginia? That's the name of a state in America," Hermione raised an eyebrow. 

"Yes, that's my real name," Ginny said, raising her chin defiantly, "Ginny is a nickname. Mostly Ron's fault because he couldn't pronounce my real name when he was little." 

"Hence, Ginny is what we call her." Ron finished. 

"But I want everyone to call me by my full name," Ginny - Virginia - protested, a frown darkening her face, "after all, Terry does." 

"Terry?" Harry asked Ron blankly as the quartet walked out of their alcove and into the surging crowd. 

"Ravenclaw bloke, our year. Fancies her," Ron jerked his head at his younger sister who was chatting with Hermione now. At this last phrase, Ron's expression darkened and Harry took it that his best friend didn't exactly like anyone fancying his sister. "And besides, no one's going to call her Virginia. We're all too used to calling her Ginny." 

"Ah, here we are," Hermione said gleefully as they ducked out of the crowd and into Flourish and Blotts. She dug out her list once more and made a beeline for the stacks of books. 

"We better head after her," Ron sighed, "or we'll never get our books." he turned to Ginny, "you'll be all right, right?" 

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Of course, Ron! But first I'm ducking over to the ice cream place." 

"And why is that?" Ron demanded, folding his arms. For a moment, he reminded Harry scarily of Percy. 

"Because I'm meeting Terry there," Ginny replied, raising her chin defiantly, "I'll be back in a half-hour, don't worry." She grinned, kissed her brother on the cheek, then ducked out of the shop. 

Ron scowled at his sister's retreating back, "I don't trust that Boot fellow," he grumbled as he and Harry made their way over to where Hermione was, "and if he does anything to her, I'll . . " Ron trailed off and made a violent motion with his hands. Harry privately hoped that no one would hurt Ginny if that was what Ron would do to them. 

"Oh, drat it all!" Hermione grumbled, jumping up and down, trying to reach a book. Unfortunately, the shelf that the book was on seemed a good foot out of her reach, even when jumping. After a few more moments of trying, she folded her arms and glared up at the offensive bookshelf. "It figures the year we need _Curses and Counter Curses_, they would have moved it up to a shelf out of my reach." 

Grinning, Ron and Harry turned to each other, then both reached a hand up to the shelf and got down a book. 

"Oh, stop it," Hermione scowled at them, "just because you're taller than me doesn't give you license to flaunt it." 

"Ah, keep speaking like that Hermione and you won't get the book you need," Ron grinned. 

Growling something incoherent under her breath, Hermione turned to Harry, smiling, although it was a bit strained, "Harry, would you be a dear and hand me a copy of _Curses and Counter Curses_?" 

"Well, now," Harry said, leaning against the shelf and rubbing his chin, pretending to ponder the question. He smirked at Hermione, "what are you going to do for me, Granger? _What_ are _you_ going to do for _me_?" 

"Oh, bloody hell!" Hermione snapped, storming off, "I'll get one of the shop keepers to get it down for me." 

Ron watched the female third of their trio storm off while muttering something about friends who are male do not have license to sexually harass you. "You know, we really should stop bugging her about her height. And the fact that she's only five foot two and we're both around the six foot mark." 

"True," Harry said as they wandered around the store, looking for someone else from their year to possibly get a book list from. 

It was their last year at Hogwarts, now. After this June, they wouldn't be going back there. Hermione was planning on attending Caer Wydyr University, to continue her magical education. Ron had already decided he was going to work with his brothers Fred and George in there fledging joke shop which was doing surprisingly well. As for Harry? Well, he hadn't really decided what he wanted to do when he got out of Hogwarts, Quite frankly, he had half-expected he would be dead by the time graduation rolled around. Of course, that was when Voldemort had just come back. But now, it seemed like there wasn't even a whisper of the Dark Lord. In fact, there hadn't been any evidence to support he was back at all. Not for almost three years now. And that wasn't helping Harry's nerves at all. 

"'Scuse me, you're in seventh year, right?" a hand grasped onto Harry's shoulder and whirled him around. 

"Yes, I am." Harry said, cautiously, looking at the girl who still had a rather firm grip on his shoulder. 

"So 'm I," Ron said, looking at the girl with something akin to appreciation in his eyes. She took her hand off of Harry's shoulder and eyed him. 

"Dammit," she groused, "I'm in sixth and I need a list." 

"Nope, can't help you there," Harry said apologetically. 

"Don't believe we've seen you around school before," Ron added, hoping to keep the conversation going, "I'm Ron Weasley." 

"And I'm - " Harry began, but was cut off by the girl holding up her hand. 

"You're Harry Potter." she smirked, "easily enough identifiable by the neon glowing scar on your head." Harry coughed at this and tried to flatten his fringe over the aforementioned scar. "Anyway," the girl continued, "I'm Faith Lestrange." 

"Pleased to meet you, Faith," Ron said, "now, what are you doing here? I assume you're a witch, of course, but how come we've never seen you around Hogwarts before?" 

"Ah, that's the question, Mr Weasley," Faith said, folding her arms. "You've probably never seen me because I don't like to be seen by people most of the time. And it amuses myself and my fiancé." 

"Fiancé?" Harry asked, "um . . . aren't you a little young to have a fiancé?" 

"Someone doesn't know old-world wizarding traditions that well," Faith said, a bit of a superior tone in her voice. "It's customary for the eldest child in a wizarding family to be betrothed to someone by their sixteenth birthday. And, as mine was two months ago, I have a fiancé." 

"Really?" Ron asked, a look of disappointment on his face, "who?" 

"Oh, you've probably heard of him," Faith waved a hand carelessly, a hint of sarcasm in her voice, "his name's Draco Malfoy." 

Harry and Ron just stared at her in undisguised shock. Harry recovered first however. 

"You must be joking," he said, raising an eyebrow, "who would want to marry _him_?" 

At the mention of Faith's engagement to Draco Malfoy, Ron had evidentially lost interest in her. He was now scanning the crowd, looking for someone that they knew. Preferably someone who didn't hold Malfoy in a good light. He finally spotted someone. 

"Ah, there. Oi! Seamus!" Ron called out, over the din of customers. A distance away, the sandy-haired boy looked up and waved. He hurried through the crowd to where they were standing. 

"Doing school shopping, I presume?" Seamus said, trying to keep his stack of books steady. His eyes fell on Faith. "And who might you be?" 

"This is Faith," Ron said, a somewhat of a sneer on his face, "she's a sixth year and - engaged to Draco Malfoy." 

"Well, we were school shopping," Harry broke in before Seamus could make a remark, "until Hermione took off with the one list we have. So we're kind of stuck." 

"Take mine then," Seamus offered, his eyebrows half-way up his forehead as he glanced at Faith once more. "It's in the front pages of _The Standard Book of Spells: Grade Seven_." he added, nodding his head at the top book on his stack. Ron quickly flipped through the book and pulled out the piece of parchment. 

"Thanks, Seamus," he nodded. 

"No problem," grinned the Irish boy, "See you on September 1st. You too, Faith." With that, he ducked back into the crowd, heading toward the counter to pay for his books. 

"Now, then, what do we have to get?" Ron asked rhetorically, holding the list so that he and Harry could look at it. 

_The Standard Book of Spells (Grade Seven)_ by Miranda Goshawk  
_Curses and Counter Curses_ by Vindictus Viridian  
_Nastily Exhausting Wizard Tests: A Guide to Acing Your N.E.W.Ts_ by Anyanka Aurenien  
_Advanced Potions_ by Arsenius Jigger  
_An Encyclopedia of Curses, Hexes and Other Nasty Things_ by Niapolo Windstrom

"Don't you have a sixth year one?," Faith said, not waiting for an answer. She grabbed the list out of their hands, prompting a cry of outrage from both boys. 

"What the hell d'you think you're doing?" Ron demanded, snatching the parchment back. He glared at the offending brunette girl. 

"Looking at the list," Faith snapped, "do you have a problem with that, Ronald Weasley?" 

"As a matter of fact, I do." Ron said, anger rising in his cheeks. "You do not just grab something out of someone's hands without asking first. Especially when you don't need it." 

"Actually, you know what, Weasley?" Faith demanded, an icy look coming over her face, "I live by three basic principles. Want. Take. Have." 

"Well, Lestrange, obviously you've been a little distorted by your precious fiancé," Ron retorted, "most people don't do things that way." 

"Well, maybe you should, Weasley." Faith replied, "and maybe things wouldn't be as hellish here." 

With that last comment, Faith Lestrange whirled on her heel and stalked off through the crowd. 

"What was that?" Hermione asked, her voice muffled. 

"That was Malfoy's fiancée." Harry said flatly, turning to Hermione. 

"Malfoy has a fiancée?" Hermione's tone of voice and facial expression was nothing short of incredulous. Of course, Harry didn't know this as Hermione's face was hidden by a stack of books, "Harry, take the top five books." 

"Thanks, Hermione," Harry said, surprised that she had got him the books he needed. He handed them to Ron then took the next five books in Hermione's stack for himself. 

"Where's Ginny?" Ron demanded, looking around the store, "and how long has it been?" 

"It's only been fifteen minutes, Ron," Hermione said, "and give Ginny a little credit. She knows how to look after herself." 

"As long as she doesn't run into the future Mrs. Malfoy, I'm sure she'll be fine." Harry added as the three of them made their way to the counter to pay for their books. 

  
  


2:19 p.m  
17 August, 1997  
Malfoy Manor  
South France  
  
  
  


Lord Voldemort surveyed himself in the mirror, tilting his head to the side. This had been a brilliant move on his part. After all, no one would be suspecting an eighteen-year-old boy of being the most famed Dark Lord. And it was so much nicer being in this body. One of the perks being that it added years to his life. It was perfect for blending into crowds - no one would think of sending him a second glance. Well, except for a few people. Dumbledore being one of them. Voldemort's handsome face darkened as he thought of his old Transfiguration teacher. _Stupid Muggle-loving fool_, he thought angrily. _His fault for ruining everything_, he could see the expression of anger on his reflected face growing darker.

"Dear, you really should calm down," the mirror said in a sickeningly cheerful voice, "someone with your looks shouldn't spend their days getting hacked off at the world."

"Getting mad at the world is what I do best," Voldemort said softly, laughing slightly at it. _And getting the world mad at me,_ he added mentally, tracing the fingers of his right hand on the cold surface of the mirror.

"Now, stop that, dearie," the mirror giggled, "it tickles."

"Tickles, does it?" Voldemort tilted his head to the side, an expression of almost child-like innocence conquering his face. He paused, the fingertips of his hand still resting on the mirror. Gently, he drew back and turned away.

"Leaving so soon?" the mirror sounded slightly disappointed, "but now I'll be bored to pieces."

Voldemort whirled around swiftly, his fist flying towards his reflection. The mirror emitted a strangled shriek as flesh hit glass and shattered it. A few shards fell to the floor and Voldemort's own hand held a few fragments. "How right you are," he smirked to himself as he walked down the hallway. _It was a twisted irony in a sort of way_, he thought as he pulled the splinters of glass out of his skin. Many hadn't penetrated all that deeply, but one rather large shard had managed to do quite bit of damage. He paused for a moment, looking down at his hand. The shard was a good two inches big and had penetrated near one of the major veins of his wrist.

"Ah, ah, ah," he whispered, pulling the shard out. He held it up and looked at it as if it were an errant child. "It wouldn't do for a simple cut to kill me now, would it?"

He dropped the shard to the ground and stepped on it, his heel grinding the glass into smaller fragments until it was dust. He muttered, "_Medicor,_" and the cuts on his hand slowly began to close. Only when he was sure they had healed, Lord Voldemort continued down the hallway.

He was late, he knew that for a fact. He was the one who had summoned them there. But he simply had to take care of that idiot Minister. Of course, by now, people would have found the body. Perhaps they would put out a special edition of the _Daily Prophet_. There would be political upheaval, loads of that of course. And they would need to select a new Minister of course.

When Voldemort entered the room, silence fell. No matter what people had been saying before, they stopped in mid-sentence and drew back. They formed a circle silently, effortlessly. All were there now, even those who had not been in on his plans. Only his Inner Circle had been there and one of them was most likely to be elected as the temporary Minister for Magic. The Junior Minister wasn't fit to run magical Britain and people would oppose him, causing even more chaos. What was his name again? It seemed to just slip out of his reach. _Ah, yes, I remember. Percival Weasley. One of precious Virginia's older brothers, one of whom she wrote to me about._ Lord Voldemort smiled at this as he walked to the front of the room where a chair was.

Chair was a feeble description; it was more like a throne. Standing beside it on either side were Lucius Malfoy and Peter Pettigrew. The current Malfoy patriarch was a valuable person to have on his side, but he could care less about Pettigrew. The turncoat had outlived his usefulness now and was of no more use to him. 

  
  


2:27 p.m  
17 August, 1997  
Malfoy Manor  
South France  
  
  
  


Severus Snape was quite unsettled at being in Malfoy Manor. He had heard the news of the Minister's demise seconds before he felt the Mark burn. Instantly, he had connected the two and had rushed from Hogwarts to Apparate to where the Dark Lord was. Surprised, he had found himself in one of the many rooms at Malfoy Manor. He was still slightly distracted, but managed to pull himself together enough to take his place in the circle.

Thoughts were running through his head a mile a minute. Many of how entirely screwed the wizarding world was now, considering that the man most likely to be elected Minister for Magic now was Lucius Malfoy. Then things would be all too easy for Voldemort to have the wizarding world at his feet.

"Of course, you should know by now where you are to be during the attack," Voldemort was saying as Severus jerked himself back to the present. "If you haven't been told a specific location, you will simply be there to cause general panic." A smirk crossed the Dark Lord's face.

"And what about you, my Lord?" Lucius asked.

_Pathetic_, Severus sneered. _He's like a dog waiting for table scraps from its master._ Which in reality, somewhat fit.

"I?" Voldemort's smirk widened, "I will be paying a little visit to a dear old friend of mine."

A murmur went up from the circle of Death Eaters. The name _Harry Potter_ was heard several times and Severus winced. If this was true, then he would have to find a way to warn Dumbledore.

"No," Voldemort said, tilting his head to the side, "not Harry Potter. An old friend of mine."

This worried Severus more than before. If not Potter, than who? The question was still in his mind as he joined the rest in Disapparating to Diagon Alley. 

  
  


2:30 p.m  
17 August, 1997  
Diagon Alley  
London  
  
  
  


Ginny Weasley did not run into the future Mrs. Malfoy, although it probably would've been a better run-in than the one she was about to make. 

She had ducked into the Diagon Alley location of her brothers' joke shop, to say hi. Unfortunately, neither of them were there that day. They were supervising a new shipment at the Hogsmeade location, from what Alicia Spinnet had told her. Ginny had thanked the older girl and then hurried off to Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour to meet Terry. 

"Oh, Great Merlin, where is he?" she muttered to herself in exasperation. Ten minutes had passed since the time Terry had told her to meet him there. And she was getting rather ticked off and a bit self-conscious. The age old question of _what if he had stood her up?_ was the first thought that flashed through her mind. She started to walk forward, but was interrupted by someone Apparating right in front of her.

"Watch where you're going!" she snapped, her temper getting the better of her as she fell to the ground. 

"Miss Weasley?" a voice asked. Ginny cringed. She knew this voice. She looked up to see that the Potions Master of Hogwarts was the one who had Apparated right into her. 

"Umm . . . hello, Professor Snape," she said hesitantly. The man did not like her much in class and probably loathed her more now that it was summer. She blushed deeply, both from the embarrassment of yelling at him and being seen sprawled on the ground. Quickly she scrambled to her feet, muttering an apology. She looked downwards as she did so, then snuck a look back at the Slytherin House Head and was instantly worried.

Snape's expression had faded from one of shock to one of almost fear and anxiety. He stared at her for a moment, making her extremely uncomfortable.

"Get out of here," he snapped suddenly, glancing around quickly. His expression had faded into one of intense paranoia now.

His sharp tone had bewildered Ginny as much as his command had, "Why?" 

"Have you not heard the news?" Snape demanded. Before Ginny could reply, he continued, "The Dark Lord has just killed Minister Fudge and Diagon Alley is going to be his next target." He kept his voice low and his eyes kept darting around. 

"How do you know that?" Ginny asked as she looked around the bright shopping place in the same manner that Snape had moments ago. However, a new fear gripped her and she continued, "But what about Ron? And Hermione? And Harry?" 

"They're here?" Snape asked, his eyes narrowing. The expression of drawn fear came flooding back into his face. 

"In Flourish and Blotts," Ginny said, a pit of worry beginning to grow in her stomach, "at least, when I left them." 

"I'll get them," Snape said, "now you get out of here." 

Ginny nodded and turned to go. She stopped and whirled around to face her Potions teacher. "Thank you, Professor Snape." 

"Go!" was the reply as the greasy-haired Hogwarts professor strode off into the crowd. Ginny was perfectly ready to obey his orders and whirled around. 

And ran smack into her late date. 

"Virginia, I'm so sorry!" Terry said, anxiety clearly evident on his face as he hugged her close. 

"Terry, there's no time," Ginny quickly disentangled herself from him and looked around at Diagon Alley frantically, "we've got to get out of here!" 

"Why?" Terry was bewildered to say the least. 

However, his question was answered shortly in the appearance of many, many masked and hooded figures who appeared at regular intervals down the street. 

"What the hell is going on?" Terry demanded, his eyes narrowing. 

"Death Eater attack," Ginny whispered, all the blood draining from her face. She hadn't wanted to believe Snape's words, she had wanted to think they were all a result of her over-active imagination. But that would not be the case. She saw one of the hooded figures begin to head for where she and Terry stood. She pushed him, "RUN!" 

Terry needed no persuasion. He started to run. After a moment, so did Ginny. Blindly though, without any clear idea of where to go. All that she could think about was getting out of the line of attack. She crashed into a wall and fell to the ground, wincing in pain. Looking up, she saw that there was a corner to this wall. An alleyway. 

The thought filled her with some twisted form of joy and she raced into the darkness, hoping against hope that no Death Eaters would think of going into an alleyway. 

Of course, hope of any kind in this situation was futile. 

Ginny realized the truth in that as her back was suddenly slammed against the wall of the alleyway. She felt one hand on her shoulder and the blunt tip of a wand digging into her throat. 

  
  


2:33 p.m  
17 August, 1997  
Flourish and Blotts  
Diagon Alley  
London  
  
  
  


"What is going on out there?" Hermione inquired. She was the first to notice some sort of commotion outside Flourish and Blotts. And the fact that somehow, when they had been paying for their books, the crowds in the store had dispersed. 

"Someone won the Wizarding Lottery?" Ron suggested, joining her at the window to peer out. 

"I don't think so," Hermione said, drawing in a breath as she saw green light illuminating parts of the street. Her expression changed from one of bemusement to a serious one, "Harry, get over here!" 

"What is i . . ." the question died on Harry's lips as he looked out the window. The blood seemed to drain from his face, "Dear God." 

"A Death Eater attack," Ron said in an oddly hollow voice. 

"Get down." Hermione commanded, her voice low and expression anxious. 

"What?" Harry asked, his eyes fixated on the street in front of the store. 

"Get down!" Hermione's voice was shriller now, as she somehow managed to yank the two boys to the ground. A green light flashed over head, in the place where they were once standing. 

"Thanks, Hermione," Ron said, gulping audiably. 

"Get out of here," Harry said suddenly. 

"Harry, no." Hermione folded her arms, "we're not leaving you." 

"Get out of here," was the stubborn reply as Harry took out his wand. 

Ron froze in horror. He looked at his two friends and whispered sharply, "what about Ginny?" 

A black shape passed over them swiftly and feet landed on ground, making a thudding noise, "Your sister is fine, Mr. Weasley." the newly arrived figure said, crouching down out of sight. The broken window above was making them even more vulnerable and it would be only a matter of time before Death Eaters - ones that weren't spies - would storm the store and more than likely kill them all. 

"Professor Snape?" Harry asked, slowly getting to his feet. 

"Get out of here, the three of you," Snape commanded, his voice harsh. 

"But what about - " Hermione began to ask. 

"Disapparate now, or I will Stun you and Disapparate you myself," Snape snarled. 

"My sister!" Ron protested. 

"I saw your sister when I Apparated, Weasley," Snape replied, his expression an unreadable mask, "I told her to get out of here and I can only assume she did so." 

"But she can't Apparate yet!" Ron exclaimed. 

"Come on, Ron," Hermione said, casting anxious looks out at the street. "Remember, every store has Floo Power." 

"But - Ginny - " Ron said, his face a mask of horror and anxiety. 

"I'll try and find her, but she more than likely already left," Snape said. 

Harry uttered the words he never would have thought he would say, "Thanks, Professor." 

"Don't thank me yet, Potter," Snape said, not meeting Harry's eyes, "now, you three, get out of here." 

Without another word, the trio Disapparated to Merlin only knows where. Snape stood stock still for a moment, surveying the scene before him.

Then he plunged into the crowd. 

  
  


2:36 p.m  
17 August, 1997  
Between Diagon Alley and Knockturn Alley  
London  
  
  
  


"Please, let me go." Ginny pleaded. It was her natural instinct to do so. To bargain for her life. 

"Ahh, but what if I don't want to?" her attacker murmured, a slight chuckle emphasising the end of his sentence. "What if I don't want to let you go, Virginia Weasley?" 

"How do you know my name?" Ginny whispered. It was a stalling tactic, she knew. But stalling tactics were good in times such as this. 

There was another chuckle from her attacker and the wand point was removed from Ginny's throat, "_Lumos_," was intoned and a bright light suddenly blinded her eyes, causing her to shut them instantly. 

After a moment, the only Weasley daughter slowly opened her eyes. A strangled gasp escaped her throat as she took in the face of the person before her. Pale skin, dark hair, flaming scarlet eyes, beautiful cheekbones. It was the face that had haunted her nightmares. 

"Hello, Virginia," Lord Voldemort said with a cordial smile, "Lovely to see you again." 

Ginny's mouth opened and closed, no sound coming out of it. She looked like a fish out of water. _No_, was the single syllable in her mind as the shock overtook her brain, causing her to fall down into darkness. 


End file.
